


Home

by helsinkibaby



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: 1-million-words, F/M, Het, Romance, if they didn't eff it up, or this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6668344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long drive, Frank arrives home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> For the rainy Days and Mondays three things challenge 
> 
>  Set 1:  
> muddy boots by a door  
> a damp towel  
> an old quilt/comforter

Sheets of rain falling from a slate grey sky mean the drive from the city to Sleepy Hollow takes almost twice as long as it usually does, and more than once he considers pulling over to the side of the road and waiting for the storm to pass, even if that means spending the night in the damn car. He keeps on going though, wipers working overtime as he peers through the windshield, greedily charting every mile marker, every landmark, official and unofficial, that brings him closer to home. 

When he finally pulls up outside his house, a single light shines from the porch and he smiles, grateful that this hellish journey is at an end. He parks the car in the driveway, sprints to the front door but the rain is so heavy that he's still soaked almost to the skin. Letting himself in, he knows he's not the only occupant by the pair of muddy boots that rest on a sheet of newspaper just beside the door. A lack of muddy footprints on the tiles tells him that those boots were taken off the second the door was opened and he smiles to himself at that, almost able to hear Jenny's voice cursing his damn neat freak ways - they may have had that very conversation more than once.

Although maybe not enough because thrown haphazardly over the end of the bannister is a towel, still damp to the touch. It's not long since her arrival then and Frank glances at his watch, wondering what the hell she was tracking to have her out so late. He makes use of the towel, rubs it over his face and head after hanging up his jacket on the coat stand and then his boots join hers on the newsprint before he makes his way up the stairs. 

He expects to find her in bed, maybe even asleep. Instead though, she's standing at his bedroom window, looking out through the blinds at the storm. She turns her head as he approaches, her long hair curling down her back, making his fingers itch. She's wrapped herself in the quilt from his bed, the one that his grandmother had handmade for his parents when they got married and he knows, from the flash of leg as she turns, from the glint in her eyes and the smile on her lips, that she's not wearing anything underneath. 

With a silent apology to his grandmother he steps forward, takes her in his arms and kisses her. 

She kisses him back and, just like that, he knows it's good to be home. 


End file.
